Fear
by SlytherinFTW
Summary: Fear, be it rational or irrational, is debilitating to both the sufferer and those around them, and Sam and Dean are no exception.


Sam tossed around in his bed late one night, unable to sleep as usual. It was quiet nights like these that Sam hated the most. Dean was in the bed adjacent to his, sleeping soundly. Sam glanced over at Dean, sighing at the sight of the silvery blue glow over his features caused by the moonlight coming in through the window.

Sam had every feature of Dean memorised, the image of his older brother, his hero, burnt into his brain as though it had been branded with a hot iron. Sam couldn't believe just how incredibly handsome Dean was. No wonder the women seemed to throw themselves at him. What Sam loved most about Dean's physical features were his perfect lips. He had never seen such beautiful lips on anyone else, male or female.

Sam's hero worship of Dean had changed into something else, something more dramatic once he hit puberty. At first, he wasn't sure what it was; but when he got older he realised what was going on, once the shadowy, unknown male in his wet dreams became clearer, more solid, more obvious.

Of course, by the time realisation hit him, Sam already knew he was attracted to men as well as women. He personally didn't have an issue with it, but he wasn't sure how Dean would take it. He really didn't give a damn about what his father thought about him, he only cared about what Dean thought of him.

Part of the reason Sam went to Stanford was to get away from the uncertainty of whether he should tell his family or not, as there was still no clear indicator of how they would take it. If he knew for certain that they had a problem with gays, he'd keep quiet. If they didn't, well then he'd tell them in due course. But, unfortunately, life wasn't that simple.

The other reason for his leaving was the fact that he was in love with Dean. He was afraid of doing or saying something he'd regret, and, once again, he wasn't sure how Dean would take it. Bad enough he didn't know what Dean's opinion on gays was, let alone how he'd react to his brother, his _baby brother_ saying he was in love with him.

And then of course there was the fear of that if, _if_, he and Dean ever really had a relationship of any kind Dean would end up getting hurt, be it physically or emotionally. After what had happened to Jessica, he was too afraid of such a thing happening again.

He had been with Jessica for a year and a half, and as far as Dean knew, Sam hadn't been with anyone else. But that wasn't true. He had been with someone else. A guy, for that matter. And when he was at high school, he had had a few fucks here and there. But no one knew about that. Not even Dean.

Sam was no stranger to male company. He was comfortable with his sexuality. But still Sam was afraid.

Afraid of how Dean would take Sam's bisexuality.

Afraid of how Dean would take Sam's feelings for him.

Afraid that he would hurt Dean.

Sam was too afraid to take the risk.

*~*~*~*

Dean glanced over at Sam. Sam was sleeping, looking extremely cramped in the passenger seat of the Impala. Dean was glad that Sam could sleep now, even if it was just for a while. Any sleep was better than no sleep, which was basically what Sam had been running on for the past week or so, along with the benefits of coffee.

The Metallica playing seemed a low drone in his ears as Dean drove on, deep in thought.

He couldn't stop thinking about Sam.

He didn't know when exactly, or what had triggered the realisation that he was in love with his baby brother. All he knew was that he had had these forbidden feelings for years. God only knew what Sam would do if ever he found out; he'd probably fucking _leave_. And of course, Sam was the most "normal" one in their fucked up family and probably the straightest person ever. Straight as a fucking ruler.

So there was _no fucking way_ Dean would ever get a chance with Sam.

He'd have to just fall back on fantasies while jacking off in the shower and fucking some Sam look alike in some dirty bathroom in a bar somewhere. As usual.

And anyway, of the few actual relationships he'd ever been in, he'd fucked everything up. And he didn't want to do something like that to Sam; he loved him too _damned much_. He couldn't bear it if he ended up hurting Sam like that. And with what they did, it'd be too awkward being around each other.

Sam stirred in his sleep. Dean glanced over at him and observed his physical features. When Sam had had that growth spurt, Dean had been kinda pissed that his little brother was now taller than him. But that was just on the surface. Underneath, Dean thought Sam's height and freakishly long legs to be extremely hot. In a fucked up, in-love-with-your-younger-brother kind of way. And despite him constantly being on Sam's back about his hair, he secretly loved its length. The way it flopped into his eyes and when he had just gotten out of the shower it made him look a bit like a drowned rat. Dean would always wish he could just run his hands through Sam's long hair. He imagined gripping onto it as Sam sucked his cock. Dean just wished Sam's hair didn't get into his eyes as much, as he loved seeing Sam's hazel eyes.

Seriously, when had he become such a sentimentalist?

But no matter how much Dean wanted, _needed_ Sam, he would never do anything. He would have to just make to with what he had.

He was afraid.

Afraid of how Sam would take Dean's tendency to play for the home team.

Afraid of how Sam would take Dean's feelings for him.

Afraid that he would fuck everything up and hurt Sam.

For once in his life, Dean was too afraid to take the risk.


End file.
